


The Great War

by Balthazario_Hale



Series: The Great War [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Skyrim Civil War, different POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthazario_Hale/pseuds/Balthazario_Hale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am basically in this mood to write a Skyrim story that I can do whatever I want with so like it, love it, hate it, I don't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sad to Think

Biting.  
That is exactly what the land of Skyrim was, one word, and not a pleasant one either.

A khajiit caravan was traveling from Whiterun to meet a bandit camp near the Shrine of Azura, few would still do business with their people. Especially since the War began.  
Dirwe the eldest, and therefore the leader, of the group was sitting in the wagon with Rei, one of the younglings born outside the desert sun’s sweet kiss.

“Di, why say to nords, many you find warm sands?” the young Kha asked as he continued his study of a tomb given to him by Dirwe  
“Our people long to return home my child. Nothing is sweeter than the desert sands” he looked down at Rei who was not listening 

“Nothing but the meads of Riverwood Dirwe” added one of the caravan. Dirwe smiled to himself, thankful that his people still had some light places in their hearts.

They continued to the Shrine, Rei tried to get out of studying but Dirwe would always scold him, so he would return to the tombs.

One of the main reasons they were heading towards the Shrine of Azura was not to trade with bandits, although that was true. But Dirwe was also meeting a mage from the College of Winterhold, where they taught young mages in the arcane arts.  
The Great Civil War was not just devastating to the nords and imperials, but to all who inhabited Skyrim as a home. A secret council had been held between Dirwe and some of the elder Khajiit, they decided that the children must be protected at all cost.  
At the Shrine they were to give the children to the mage to return with him to the College. That was why they were studying the tombs, to perform magic and gain entry to the school.  
****  
As the caravan approached the Shrine they saw the bandit campfire near its base

“I will travel ahead to make us known to these men” Dirwe halted the group and approached the bandits first

“Bout’ time you showed your hides up!” the “leader” stepped out of the only tent in the clearing to face Dirwe

“We apologize, time was not a generous giver in our travels” Dirwe bowed his head 

“Whatever. Just give us the FUCKING sugars!” the bandit kicked at the fire making the sparks dance in the air

“Of course”

The Khajiit began unloading their inventory in front of the bandits who stared and snickered at the traders

“I believe we also discussed payment my friend” Dirwe turned towards the “leader” 

“About that” he said with a smirk “We don’t really feel like paying so ‘ow bouts you all fuck off in another direction. What do ya say?”

One of the khajiit tilted his sword sheath “Payment for goods my friend”

The bandit’s eyes narrowed on the sword while the others with him began to stand up and face the caravan

“You cats may have claws. But Ulfric Stormcloak has a voice that ripped a man apart. And we ‘ave a sort of deal worked out where he gets the sugars and we get a favor in return”

The younglings in the wagon began to shift towards the back trying to get as far away from the tension as possible

Dirwe half drew his own sword “I beg you to think about this my fr-“

The bandit leader drew his sword and had it pointed at Dirwe’s neck in an instant. Both sides drew their weapons at once.

“Call me friend one more time you fucking animal! But I do like that you beg. Makes this whole thing feel….. right”

“This need not be done. I do not think Ulfric Stormcloak honors those who have none” Dirwe had his eyes locked with the bandit’s

The bandit leaned forward and whispered “Honor has no place in this world kitty” 

With one fluid motion the sword was pushed through Dirwe’s neck, sending a spray of blood across the wagon. And the children in it.  
The world seemed to stop spinning as a fury beyond that of gods broke between the two groups  
The snowy ground quickly became slushed with red, almost like a painting but clearly made by a mad artist  
Through sheer numbers the bandits overcame the khajiit warriors

The “leader” looked towards the wagon at the young kha children huddled together in paralyzing terror  
“Finish ‘em off boys” he waved over his shoulder as the bandits approached the children  
One after another they grabbed the younglings out to the ground, stabbing, slashing, crushing

The bright red ground was almost a black before Rei was the last one to be drugged to the ground

(Rei POV)

I couldn’t think

Couldn’t breathe

As a rough hand pulled me out of the wagon I sat with Dirwe in just hours ago, I heard one of the men saying that my fur would make a nice pelt for his wall

With my face shoved into the snow, into the blood, into my kin, my head was facing towards the Shrine of Azura. I prayed to her, for protection, for salvation, to wake from this nightmare written by a petulant god.  
No answer from she who protects the good from the evil

Just as the men began to hold my arms out for a clean cut a blast of fire erupted in the man above me’s face

He lurched back screaming, the flesh of his skin dripping between his fingers, when he finally dropped to the ground the others quickly forgot about me and ran in the other direction  
Whatever power was out there, they were not fast enough to escape, for three blue darts lodged into their heads

I was still unable to move from fear, shock, or maybe from total defeat in myself

However, I could hear the leader of the camp yelling, clearer than anything I had ever heard

“Ulfric Stormcloak will have your head for thi-!” then silence, not even a breath, not a sigh.

A figure approached me, two firm hands lifted me off the ground to my feet

It was a woman, a Breton if I remember their people correctly.

She carried a staff and was clad in steel armor. Imperial.

“I won’t say that this is a nightmare you will wake up from. But you have a choice” she stepped away from me and began to walk away but looked over her shoulder me way. “Come with me if you have purpose to do so, or stay here and pray to your god”  
In that moment the little will I had came to me “I pray to no god from this day on” I could feel tears behind my eyes

The woman stopped and faced me

“I see purpose in you child, I see magic as well. Tell me, if this was a disaster, who will answer?”

Somehow the death, the sorrow, the pain, it all seemed so far away. As if a fog of forgetfulness surrounded me

I looked to her and said the words that would drive my every breath

“Ulfric Stormcloak”


	2. From Fear to Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again. I am basically just screwing around so even though I do not expect anyone to be reading these if you have any pointers let me know.

We stared into the fire with empty eyes

Dragons?

Somehow as a child when your parents tell you scary stories a deep part of you knows it's not real. Even though it still scared you.

Learning that the peace of safety was just a comforting lie, placed in the hearts of children by a cruel maker, it seems like a dark room was opened in your heart.  
And Nords were known for their heart.

Our Nordic family sat around their fireplace in Whiterun waiting to here if the dragon just over the mountain in Helgan was real or a sick joke being played by the tongues of men

My name is Balkas, I am the son of Finrir and Yirthas, two distinguished Companions Clan members 

I always knew I was going to follow in my parents footsteps to pursue honor through battle. But I believed those days were far away from where I am now.

Lately my parents have made me accompany them everywhere due to high tensions the other nords had been causing for everyone. I would figure out later that this was because my father would openly proclaim that the Stormcloaks brought shame to the title of Nord of Skyrim, not that he much care for the Imperial Legion. 

The only reason, I believe, that he has not been killed is because of the respect he holds as a skilled warrior.

My day spent with the Companions these past few months have been the biggest challenge I have ever faced. Not because of hard work or rough housing all day.  
The Companions only care for strength of arm and will. The Will I had but my young form has not developed like the other children I know, especially the boys. I am small to say the least and not very strong. The other children were starting to grow taller and bigger while I was still half their size.

But my parents were told by the Jarl's Court Wizard that my magical aura was stronger than anyone my age he has ever seen. This was discovered when I was told by my mother to go to the Companions one night when my father was taking too long to return home. Usually it took me a few hours to get him to leave so mother did not expect me home till dawn. As I was walking past the Gildergreen Tree, two men sitting on one of the benches beckoned me over, they looked familiar so I approached.

Once I was in arm's reach one of the men grabbed me by my collar and yanked towards him, hitting me in the stomach. I felt the air leave me like my very being was leaving my body, as I hit the ground they began to laugh and kick at my grounded body.

Unable to make a sound I tried to crawl away towards The Companion house. One of the men grabbed me by my leg and pulled me up into the air in front of him.

"Say boy. Your father, he is a fine warrior I would say, strong as an ox and quick as a sabercat. And last I checked he was also a Nord, yes?" I nodded my head, feeling my breathing return to me, unable to fight back  
The man continued speaking as if this was a casual conversation and not one of a child being forced upside down.   
"Personally I would have bowed to ol Finrir had I not overheard that he does not take fancy to the Stormcloak Rebellion. The true calling of all Nords, and since you're his child let's send him a message shall we?" I could see a glint in his eye that did not come from any torches.

As I heard a knife being unsheathed my natural instincts kicked in as I swing at the man's knee from the side, knocking him down one one leg. Had it not taken him by surprise the older man probably would not have fallen.

"Well well, seems the lil runt has some of his ancestor's fighting spirit after all" the man chuckled 

Using my opportunity away from him I yelled towards the Companions house hoping someone would recognize my voice and come save me from whatever these men had planned.  
The other man who had been standing off to the side covered my mouth with his hand and shoved me up against the Gildregreen. As soon as my body made contact, everything around me stopped even my body, but not my mind.

I heard a voice behind me as if someone was whispering in my ear "Fear not my child. I see your heart and it is pure, strong, and has the cry of many Nords within'. There is strength in you that you may never fully understand, for many are born with powers beyond this world in order to shape it. One such person is on their way here from Helgan, but you too are special in a different way."

-Who are you?- I could not move my voice but the one in my head seem to be heard by the other being

"I am Kynareth. I am your guardian as well as all Nords who have purity in strength. You have a great destiny, a light within you in this dark time. Although the choice is yours, the door to greatness will be opened to you soon there will you decided who you want to be. For now, this test of courage will be the first of many in the days to come."

Then the quiet was broken as the world around me began to move as if a held breath had been released. I realized the other man's knife was approaching me. In a moment of desperation I threw my hands in front of my face for defense. 

I heard the sound of a blade cutting through bone and muscle but felt no pain. Expecting for it to come I took my hands away from my face to see a huge black blade shoved through the man from the back. The other man released his grip on me causing me to fall to the ground where I found myself unable to move again. As the stabbed man fell off the blade the Black Armor figure wielding the sword was revealed.

Its armor was black as night with burning red lines etched into every corner, as was the blade. Without hesitation the dark figure cleaved he head of the other man off his shoulders. A spray of blood hit my body which I was too shocked to notice.

The figure approached me. I began to pray that the goddess Kynareth would keep her promise and protect me but with every step the demon took my faith was failing me. I closed my eyes preparing myself to be with my ancestors.  
When no such end came I heard the sound of armor clanking, as I opened my eyes the dark figure, with yellow eyes, knelled in front of me. Its hand came up into a fist on its chest, the sign of a warrior to its leader.

When it spoke I heard many voices as if an army were speaking together.

"You summoned us Master."

I screamed

For the first time since I was attacked, with every opportunity to do so, I screamed for help now.  
I heard the door to Dragon Reach House open as footsteps descended the stone steps. As I looked over I saw the Jarl's Court Wizard with a crystal in his hand which he held in front of him like a flame to a beast.  
"I command you dremora to return to your plane and never return!" The crystal glowed but nothing happened

The "dremora" held its sword out and stepped in between me and the wizard. This surprised me, it could have stepped behind me and used me as a shield. My fear was being replaced my curiosity.

"Come closer to the Master and I shall spike your head on the Gate of Oblivion itself, male witch!" 

-Master?- was it referring to me?  
"Of course, Master" I jumped in surprise to the Dremora's response  
So it could read thoughts. I then noticed that the Court Wizard's eyes were locked on me now, I would gladly take the two men now instead.

"Child, if you are truly the master command your servant to leave now" his voice did not quiver but there was fear laced in his words

"Um... ok?" I cleared my sore throat "Um... servant?"  
The dremora turned to knell again "Yes my master?"

"Please leave now" I tried to sound sure of myself but everything was moving too fast for me to process

"As you command" in a blur of black and purple mist the dremora vanished

The Court Wizard quickly approached me, assisting me to my feet but then quickly backing away a few steps

"Who taught you such a spell?" He asked like it was an interrogation   
"No one. I don't really know what happened"

The Wizard seemed to ponder something then cast his eyes at mine again

"Come to the Jarl's Palace tomorrow when the sun is directly above your head" He immediately walked back toward the steps leading to Dragon Reach Palace.  
I found myself walking back home where my mother was sleeping. 

Father would be fine. Father was strong. Father could fight.  
*********  
A month later I was making regular visits to Farengar the Court Wizard who had declared me to be his apprentice  
He told me that there were special people who were born with abilities others would train decades to obtain. And that I was one of those people.

There was a Dragonborn in Skyrim to fight the dragons but there were other evils in this world that needed combating. I, Balkas, was a Gate.  
From what I could understand a Gate is one who can command spirits from the Plane of Oblivion at will, like a beacon.

Kynareth was right, this was the door I was waiting for.

And I was going to leap thorugh it and bring honor to my family, like a true Nord.


End file.
